Things I never knew she Felt...
by DeliriumsCry
Summary: Just a side story to Destiny's Lament. What Scott felt after Rogue dissapeared, and what he discovers in her room. (Rated for a poem in this story..r+r!)


This is just a side story to Destiny's Lament, what exactly went on in Scott's head while Rogue was missing, and what he realizes while searching for clues in her room...Enjoy!  
  
  
~~*~~  
  
  
He flipped through the journal, looking for something that could lead him to her. Rogue had been missing for nearly a month and he was going nuts. If only he had said he loved her, let her know he was there for her. He was afraid of rejection though. He sighed, and continued to flip through the leather book. A particular page caught his eye, his name written on it, within the entry.  
  
  
Journal,  
  
How can I deny how I feel? It's nothing like ever before. I love him. It's that simple. He doesn't know I remember everything yet, no one does. I don't want to remember. It's horrible, and the Scott that plays in my memory had a lust for Jean, never would I have a chance. I prefer to play dumb. I've been here a week since the car accident. In a matter of 3 days I remembered everything once again...I remember loving Scott. Being in love with Scott, to be precise. I doesn't matter though. I will keep up the charade. I don't remember *everything* but almost. Sometimes I have floods, memories I never knew I ever had. Things I didn't remember even before the accident. Oh well. It doesn't matter, and it's near time to go to bed.  
  
- Marie Lanette Toseau(A/N: I gave Rouge a middle and last name. Part of the memories she gained back...heh...)  
  
  
Scott flipped to the next page, a poem written upon it. It was called Alice.  
  
Alice  
  
Thunder breaks the fall of a crying girl  
Chasing after rabbits in broken corridors  
Smoke the catepillar's resting pipe  
Don't worry, you'll wake up sometime  
  
Always watching the tea party at a distance  
Too afraid to join in the dementia  
"You're safe here," they call to her  
But she's been hurt too many times before  
  
He stands in a corner, waiting  
She's locked in the throne room  
Only mirrors to reflect the fear inside her  
She sees a stranger looking back  
  
"Come here, little girl," he hails  
She smiles nervously, backing away  
"Oh, don't be afraid; I won't hurt you,"  
The fangs drip crimson tears  
  
He extends his hand to her  
She hears the birds yelling vicious names  
Grasping death, his hand is blazing hot  
"Anticipation calls, my dear," he snorts  
  
The pretty flowers laugh maliciously  
The dormouse sleeps still; yet, she weeps alone  
Her blue dress falls to the vacant floor  
Blonde hair screams for release  
  
"This won't hurt a bit," he smiles  
But all she sees are painted roses  
She thinks, "What am I doing here?"  
She only hears the selfish queens bickering back  
  
When will the White King wake?  
"I don't belong here," is her useless plea  
He grins sardonically and plunges into ivory  
The key to the garden falls from the glass table  
  
Mock turtles can't save her now  
The walrus only licks his lips  
The intimate line has been crossed  
He stole her precious faith  
  
The man has no face  
Only eyes as cold as chains  
He wraps her in his cloak of sin  
She whimpers for her little Kitty  
  
What is left when all is gone?  
The Cheshire cat is grinning  
She still cries; he still moves within  
The mirrors are caving in  
  
While the caucus race runs ragged  
Blood drips from her chapped lips  
Chastity falls from her smooth neck  
  
He wipes his brow in exhaustion  
"I'd never figure you for a quaker."  
She stares blankly on as he buttons up his pants  
Chanting, "It's only a nightmare. . ."  
  
He grabs her once more for a final black kiss  
"I'll call you," and he is gone  
Nothing but mirrors and the past  
To comfort a broken girl  
  
Two humdrum boys pick her up  
The blonde child screams in devoid protest  
They dress her in spoiled Prussian  
Her dress, now a jabberwocky's toy  
  
She breaks free of the panic  
And smashes the reflecting walls  
Crashing down in a symphony  
The cards in suit come tumbling down  
  
Run from hatred, brace yourself for anger  
Hundred miles to the kingdom  
Listen to the conch along the way  
We're not far from nowhere  
  
Enter a new dream world  
The chess board is far and wide  
Grab the top hat and float away  
Let the ground go to hell  
  
She's just a little girl; a child  
But she's falling fast  
Fly away; catch the wings of a dodo  
But she's afraid of the dark  
  
A wonderland, they call it  
With its fantasies, games and spoiled tricks  
She waits for the phone to ring  
Little does she know, Wonderland has no phone  
  
She doesn't know it's not a dream  
Glass flies by the haunted girl  
No white rabbit to lead the way  
The gloves are long gone by now  
  
  
Wake from reality, split in two  
Dive into your pool of tears  
Wash away his loathsome leftovers  
Let it go, live the dream  
  
Stop this now, learn your lesson  
French books glide by in sync  
Wave to your studious sister  
She's leaving you too  
  
She knows it's a long fall  
Kiss the tea party good-bye  
Eat the cakes; drink the elixir  
You're not going home.  
  
  
Scott felt sick as he finished reading the poem. Was this how Rogue felt, remembering as she did. Is she feel lost and abused. She must have, how we all treated her now, how we treated her then. It was such a drastic change. He flipped to the next page. Another poem, no name, just words.  
  
And she drives.  
  
Fast.  
  
Into the darkness.  
The moon shadows her face.  
  
Pain.  
  
Now at her back,  
Tears dried by the crisp wind.  
  
And she drives.  
  
Far.  
  
Far from reality,  
and all she once loved.  
Never to return.  
  
And she drives.  
Only to escape the life she once knew.  
  
And she drives...  
  
  
It was almost like a prelude to what Rogue was going to do. Like she had been planning to run from the very beggining. Suddenly a desperation fell over him and he never wanted more to kill and kiss Rogue than ever before. He tucked the Journal into his arm safely and left her room, determined. He planned on reading the rest, but more importantly he planned on finding her right that moment.  
  
  
~~*~~  
  
  
Yeah...crappy, but review anyway! Thanks!  
  
PS: The poems don't belong to me...The first one, Alice, is anonymous, but the socond one belongs to Katherine Carchich. 


End file.
